Rats in NYC Taco Bell

IT IS TOO MUCH! Alright, already...we know that living in New York comes with its ups (any genre of food when ever you want it, art, culture, architecture, museums on everything, music from sun up to sundown, etc.) and its downs (rodent problems, cockroaches, shitty weather, trash 24/7) The best quote I have heard of the KFC/Taco Bell debacle "It's finger lickin' gross". OK, now stop talking about it.

What you know that you don't know

A story from one of my favorite New Yorkers: So when I first get on the train it's just me and a few other random, quiet people. At the first stop a crew of guys who look like they're probably construction workers get on. It doesn't take long to realize they're hammered, and there's one in particular who's rowdy, yelling random nonsense, just causing a mild ruckus. This is annoying, but fully manageable. Then, a dozen college age kids get on. Instantly they prove that the drunk construction workers are like Buddhist Monks compared to them. They're that group that fully makes the sober version of me never ever ever want to take another shot as long as I live. Of course they have a ringleader too, and he's not even funny, just loud, rude, and totally vile, grabbing tits, humping the girls he's with, just being so annoying I wanted to smack him across the face. And of course, the two separate groups of drunk assholes begin having a "conversation" which sounds more like rival gangs of deaf old men without their dentures yelling inaudible slurs at each other. This would be manageable despite one glaring problem: I'm stuck right smack in the middle of this gin-soaked mess and I can't get out. To the left of the college bastards is the end of the car, and to my right is the group of construction workers who, without a doubt, would have definitely started in on me if I walked past them to get to the other side of the train. As it was, the only thing I had going for me was remaining under the radar. So I just sucked it up, blasted the iPod, and spent 40 minutes at 2:30 in the damn morning, sober, surrounded by loud sloppy drunken fools. The moral of the story: next time I feel compelled to drink like a war vet, I can invoke this mental picture and immediately put down the shot of whiskey in favor of a nice tall glass of ice water!

It was so nice outside...

The dirty, dirty...

SNOW!! I love it. Every winter I sit, waiting and hoping for snow. Lots of it. Maybe it's the Colorado in me. The "schools canceled, let's go snowboarding" fun times of ol'. Oh, how I miss the days of beautiful white and fluffy snow. I've given those up for slush, dirt ice and salt stains on my pants. Oh, New York City, how the salt runneth over ye streets. I dare ask ma'am, where does ye salt rein from? The salt used on roads and streets is called Halite Salt. Halite (sodium chloride) comes from the Greek halos, meaning "salt" and lithos meaning "rock," and is in fact, better known as rock salt. Halite is called an evaporite because it is formed by the evaporation of saline water in partially enclosed basins. It is very common worldwide, deposited in solid underground masses, and as a dissolved solution in oceans and many arid-region inland lakes. Why salt on the roads? Ice forms when the temperature of water reaches 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). When you add salt, that temperature drops: A 10-percent salt solution freezes at 20 F (-6 C), and a 20-percent solution freezes at 2 F (-16 C). On a roadway, this means that if you sprinkle salt on the ice, you can melt it. The salt dissolves into the liquid water in the ice and lowers its freezing point. Well, I've learned something here.

Gore Fest

Not Al. Blood. This weekend I had the pleasure of attending Evil Dead, the musical. Little did I know what this would entail. Fake blood and head sawing abounded. Yet, it was funny and people were cheering for more. I had to ask myself, what exactly about the amputation of limbs by a rusty old chainsaw is funny? Is it because it would never really happen that way, because I am sure somewhere that it has. Was it because people came out of the woodwork with awesome feathered mullets who paid good money to sit in the "Splatter Zone"? Or was it that the intermission music was all heavy metal, totally awesome, hair band ballads, which I may add, the general audience LOVED. Not loved, like I love them, but real love, like this is the real shit man, the roots of rock kind of love. Air drumming, air guitar, lip syncing, foot stomping, horn throwing, head banging, awe-inspired disbelief that something this good could exist kind of love. You know, the kind of unbridled love you feel after a suitcase of PBR's when Poison rocks the jukebox. I do not know the answer, but it sure was beautiful. This curiously evil picture is one of my favorites....

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